


All That Glitters

by lilithiumwords



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BILBO ANGSTS TOO, Bofur wins all the things, Character Death, Heavy Angst, I'm so sorry, M/M, More angst, Oh and I lied there's no happy ending, Thorin monologues and Bilbo is wondrous, Unrequited Love, What happens when I should be working on Other Things, and the angst?, basically everyone angsts, botfa-ish, did I mention the character death?, fluff if you squint, it's a giant angstfest, just more angst, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lost it before he even knew he could have had it, when something small and harmless fell and vanished in the darkness. He envied and he burned, and he died with the knowledge of all that had slipped away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in between the spaces of you

They stood in the darkness together. Only the soft breaths by his ear, faster than usual, and the tight grip on his hand kept Thorin from thinking it was just another night.

Bilbo pressed tightly against him, nervous and anxious and so, so terrified.

They were trapped in what Thorin suspected was an old supply closet somewhere in the Master's manor. A dinner party that Bilbo had escaped, and Thorin had followed -- the sudden warmth of their mouths pressed together, sharing air for the first time -- shoving open the door that Bilbo leant up against -- and the click of the latch, locking them in. Total, complete, utter darkness.

Bilbo had panicked immediately, and had banged on the door and shouted helplessly. The wail in his voice and the shuddering of his little shoulders left a sour taste in Thorin's mouth, but he knew that their companions would not think of them for quite some time, not with the ale in their guts and the good shows the Master would put on.

But Bilbo, terrified Bilbo who had shouted and threatened and even kicked the door, had only subsided when Thorin had grabbed him and pulled him close, pressing that round nose into his collar with his hand on Bilbo's curls.

"Breathe, burglar, else you faint at my feet."

"I wouldn't faint," Bilbo had muttered indignantly, but he took a deep breath, and another, until he shook less and his voice was not so high with hysteria.

Now they stood silently, Thorin leaning against a shelf behind him, while Bilbo stood close in front of him. He knew that Bilbo was shaking, and he tried stroking his hands over Bilbo's back, along his sides. Tried pressing his nose to Bilbo's pointed ear, tried kissing that cold ear, but Bilbo did not relent. He was terrified. He did let Thorin hold him close, though, and it gave Thorin hope, that his sentiment was returned. That the kiss was not just a kiss.

"I know you want to say it," Bilbo mumbled into his shirt. Thorin frowned, his brow tightening with disdain.

"I wish to say nothing," he rumbled, back, and Bilbo huffed.

"I know I'm being silly. It's just a bit of darkness. It's not like we haven't been stuck in it before. Mirkwood, the Goblin King's cave. It's just --"

"I know, Bilbo," Thorin said quietly, and Bilbo shut his mouth. He did know. He knew how Bilbo had clutched his arm in the darkness of Mirkwood, how Bilbo had shaken like a leaf after crawling out of that abysmal hole where he had fallen, how Bilbo slept close to the fire every time they camped.

They were silent, and he felt Bilbo's shivering worsen. He pressed a kiss to Bilbo's ear again, then his cheek, but Bilbo turned away before he could reach his mouth. Thorin pressed his lips together, instead tightening his arms around Bilbo, somehow knowing that Bilbo was scowling.

"Talk to me. Tell me about... something, anything. I do not like the quiet, not like this," Bilbo said quietly, almost mumbling into the fur of Thorin's shirt, and he felt a smile touch his mouth.

"I thought you did not like it when I monologued," he teased, and Bilbo huffed again, but Thorin could hear a smile in his voice when Bilbo next spoke.

"I can stand it sometimes. Just... tell me something, Thorin."

So Thorin talked, and Bilbo listened, until his shivering had all but faded and he was limp and warm against Thorin's chest, curls brushing Thorin's beard.

"When I was a boy, my mother wove my first braids. She took a lock by either ear and twisted it until the braids shone, and she told me they were Durin braids. She gave me two beads that she had made herself, and I wore them every day until I turned twenty. Then I wore beads passed down from my forefathers, old and heavy things that adorned warriors in battle. I always missed my first beads, because they were the first things that were _mine_ and made for no one else. I lost one of them, when I turned twenty-two, and I always hated myself for it, especially after she died.

"I gave the other bead to Dís, because she lost hers on our journey to Ered Luin. She wears it every day. It is all we have left of our mother, along with a broach that I would not let my sister sell, no matter how poor we were. If she has a daughter, she should pass it down -- or if Fíli or Kíli have a daughter, then that child should inherit it. Too many of our heirlooms were sold or pawned away... for food, for our survival, but I still wish we had not.

"I still wear my forefathers' clasps, in iron and mithril. They are old, but they tell of Durin strength and Durin blood. When I die, one will go to Fíli, and one to Kíli, and to their sons when they are dead. It is the way of my people, to pass our precious belongings to Dwarves who would carry on the ancient meanings. When we reach Erebor -- you will see the lost artifacts we left behind. My rooms, my father's chambers, my mother's boxes of jewelry -- all of it will go to my sister, and to my sister-sons. But we will always keep the oldest pieces of them all, the ones we have carried for half our lives. To forget them would dishonor those who gifted them to us so long ago.

"But Bilbo, the treasures I will give to you -- you cannot imagine it, that room of gold that my grandfather coveted. Rings and goblets and -- there is a shirt of mithril that I wore as a boy. It would fit you know. It would protect you from the mightiest of attacks. It would shine in the darkness, and you would never be lost again. I will find that first and give it to you, and you will always, always be safe. Always be surrounded by my protection."

"Thorin," Bilbo whispered, and Thorin bit his tongue as he realized the direction of his tale. But Bilbo's voice was wondrous, and if there was a hint of worry beneath the desire, Thorin did not notice. He did not wish to speak further, so he dipped his head and took Bilbo's mouth for his own pleasure.

They kissed, heated and slow, and when Bilbo's back hit the door with a loud thump, they heard voices -- and then the door opened behind Bilbo, whose fall was only halted by Thorin grabbing his arm.

"Found them!" Dwalin shouted, and Thorin glared, but his friend was already walking away, and Bilbo was hurrying into the hallway, into the bright light. Thorin stepped out behind him and watched Bilbo be swept into a flurry of Dwarves, Bofur and Balin and Ori all demanding his attention, and he watched Bilbo's blush deepen as Bofur's grin widened. The sight twisted in his gut, and he felt something slip away from him. Something tiny and precious.

He thought he heard something clatter to the ground, like a silver bead, and without thinking he checked his braids. But nothing had fallen, so Thorin followed his friends down the hallway, his gaze on the back of Bilbo's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A certain someone prompted "Bilbo and Thorin are trapped in the dark. So Thorin needs to keep Bilbo from freaking out," which explains this chapter. Then I thought -- what if I could link it to _All That Glitters_? So I did. Thus the angst.


	2. all that glitters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always loved Bofur/Bilbo, but in light of the movies and the book, Thorin always gets entangled, and this was the result. I wrote it, and angst all but took over the story, and I am _sorry_ , my darlings, I am _so sorry_.

"Thorin -- I'm sorry, I cannot... not like this. What happened between us that day is important to me, and you are very dear to me, a very dear friend, but I -- I cannot. Please, can we just -- stay as we were? I trusted -- I _trust_ you, I want to be at your side, but not... anything more than companions. That kiss, it was a mistake --"

"Say no more, Master Baggins. You need not worry. It will be as if it never happened."

But Thorin did not miss how Bilbo sat close to Bofur at meals after that, he did not miss how Bilbo stayed close to Bofur's side as they snuck away to Erebor, he did not miss how they shared secret smiles, heads bowed close at night --

Just as he had hoped would happen to _him_.

 _He should have been mine_ , Thorin thought, glaring at the back of Bofur's head. Never did he break his promise, though. He treated Bilbo the same -- with distance, but with respect, though he could not help his temper, watching them grow closer as the distance between him and Bilbo deepened. How had he lost it so easily? What had he done wrong?

What could he do to make it right?

~*~

_He has it, he has it in his hand, and Smaug is asleep and there is no turning back._

_He runs, he runs as fast as he can down the passage and through the winding halls, back to the door where his friends wait._

_He has never been more terrified._

~

Outside, the Company waited in agonized silence. Thorin stood watching the door, while near him Bofur paced, his normally cheerful mien twisted with worry. Bilbo had been gone too long, and all of the Dwarves were anxious with uncertainty. What were they thinking, sending such a tiny Hobbit after a Dragon?

All of them were restless, and each time Thorin huffed and turned to look at the door, each time Bofur went to grab for his axe, they felt it, the need to find Bilbo and tear him out of that place. But they remembered the reasons they had sent him in, and no one made the move, no one made the decision to go after Bilbo, all the while drowning in their own guilt, their cowardice.

Then Thorin turned his head sharply, and a second later Bilbo ran out the door, pale and panting and holding something glimmering in his hands.

"I did it --" the Halfling gasped, but then he was swept into Bofur's arms, seconds before Thorin would have grabbed him. Then he was silenced as Bofur kissed him and pressed their foreheads together, whispering Bilbo's name, and Thorin could only stare. He did not understand what was happening, and the silence from the rest of his Company said the same.

But then Bilbo was pulling away, bright and flustered and no longer pale, and he gave Bofur a shy look before turning to Thorin and holding up his hands, and gold caught Thorin's gaze.

The others clustered around him, patting his shoulder and reassuring themselves that yes, Bilbo was alive, and all the while Bofur never let him go, and Bilbo clutched onto his arm and tried to say, "Yes, I'm alright, it's okay -- Bofur --"

And Thorin watched them, something hot and ugly sliding into his heart at the look on Bofur's face. At the terror, the worry, the blatant relief. At the way Bofur's hand slid to the small of Bilbo's back, the way Bilbo welcomed it without a complaint. The way Bilbo turned to Bofur after the others took the cup and marveled over it, the way the little Halfling wrapped his arms around Bofur's chest and hid his face in Bofur's scarf.

The way Thorin's skin crawled to see them standing close together, talking quietly where the others could not hear them. Thorin could not hear them. But he saw when Bofur's expression warmed and softened, when Bilbo pressed his hands to Bofur's cheeks, when Bofur took Bilbo's trembling hands and leaned down to murmur into his ear.

Thorin's hands itched to tear his Hobbit from Bofur's arms. Instead he approached them, and he ignored how they moved apart suddenly with flushed faces, how Bofur's hand _still lingered_ on Bilbo's back. He asked Bilbo about what he had seen and what he had done, and all the while he ignored the voice in the back of his mind that whispered _get your dirty miner's hands off him, he's mine, he's always been mine, why did he ever go to you, he should be with **me**_

But Thorin never said those things aloud.

The cup of gold was enough to distract them, though, and Thorin did not think more on Bofur's relief or the way Bilbo clung to him. Instead he turned the burning in his gut to the gold, to the treasure that lay waiting for them, for him, and if he got that gold, then he could find the shirt that was meant for Bilbo, that he had promised back in that dark closet -- and then --

Then Bilbo would be _his_ , again and forever.

~

But Bilbo would never be his. _Bilbo betrayed him._ After his gifts, after his love, after his desire and devotion and protection and _Bilbo betrayed him_ \--

And then there was a war, and he fought and raged and burned and warred for the home that had once been his, but would never be his again. Everything had fallen from his grasp. His nephews, dead, and Dís would come to Erebor the last of their once proud line. And Bilbo, who had fought for everything Thorin believed in, but _Thorin was too blind to see_ \--

_His burglar._

Clutching his hand and weeping, and Thorin named him _child of the kindly west_ , because Bilbo had always been kind to him, had always loved him without loving him, had always been at his side in all the ways Thorin had needed, except in all the ways Thorin had wanted.

The last thing Thorin saw was Bilbo's trembling mouth, open over his name.

~*~

_When Bilbo leaves Erebor, Bofur comes with him._

_"Can't let you travel that whole way back alone," Bofur says, but Gandalf is going with them too, for a while. Bilbo doesn't say anything when Bofur spends two days with Bombur, takes his time to say good-bye to Ori and Balin, and then they are walking through Mirkwood and taking a mountain pass he only remembers moments of, from before. He thinks of what the Shire might say of Bofur who is everything he is not, and he does not think of what they left behind._

_One night they are huddled together in front of a fire in a cave, and Bofur is humming while Bilbo stares at his hands. He has not taken off his mithril coat, has not put away the string of old Dwarven beads that he wears around his neck now, the ones that the Lady Dís all but threw at him in a rage so familiar that it left him cold, that last night in Erebor. He has not spoken Thorin's name once, but it hangs between him and Bofur, every time the silence stretches._

_"You know, he kissed me once," Bilbo says into the silence, and he does not need to look to know that Bofur is staring at him. "I kissed him back. It was that night we got locked in that closet, and everyone thought we were... which, I suppose we were, but it was... it was different. He was so warm that night, and he spoke of secrets I think he would have rather kept, and for a few minutes, I wanted him._

_"But then he spoke of gold, of riches beyond his dreams, and I could hear it already. That madness that swept him away, that I knew could happen, that everyone feared. And I feared him, for just a moment -- and it was enough."_

_"You couldn't have known, Bilbo --"_

_"But I **did** , Bofur. He found me in the darkness and he brought me into the light, and I -- **I betrayed him.** He loved me. If it had been different --"_

_"I know, Bilbo."_

_And he does. Bilbo loves him for it, and for the rest of the night they are silent. He never mentions that night again, and Bofur accepts it, accepts the love and guilt and pain, and for a while, Bilbo can pretend he is not empty._


End file.
